


you must become an island (the horizon is all we have)

by Callioope



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassian does NOT die I promise, F/M, Force-Sensitive Jyn Erso, Jedi Jyn Erso, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28529490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callioope/pseuds/Callioope
Summary: At the possibility of Cassian's death, Jyn is forced to confront her feelings for him--and the implications of what it means for a Jedi to love.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 20
Kudos: 63
Collections: The RebelCaptain Network Secret Santa Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletbluebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbluebird/gifts).



> This is for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa 2020 -- Happy holidays, [@kausaus](https://kausaus.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> The prompt was “jyn is force sensitive. mutual PINING. oblivious jyn/cas”
> 
> The title is from Sara Bareilles’ song “Islands”
> 
> I promise, Cassian does not die!!! although he is presumed dead by some characters.
> 
> Special thanks to the amazing [Allatariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allatariel), my sister, and my spouse for helping me bounce around ideas and plot this thing.
> 
> As a heads up, there are references to _Star Wars Rebels_ and _Jedi: Fallen Order_ , but nothing should be too spoilery and it should (I hope) still make sense without a familiarity with either of those things. For those curious, this actually takes place after “Shroud of Darkness” (Season 2, Episode 18) but before (probably juuuust before) “Twilight of the Apprentice” (Season 2, Episodes 21-22).
> 
> This takes place in 3 BBY.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re the only person listed as his next-of-kin.”

Jyn freezes, her stony glare still fixated on Draven. Despite this, she can feel Ahsoka’s gaze turn towards her in curiosity. Whatever conclusions she might be drawing would be laughably wrong, but Jyn can already sense, once Draven leaves, that she’ll have a difficult time dissuading her.

She can’t exactly blame her; it does look a certain way, Cassian listing her as his next-of-kin. 

She’s not quite sure herself why he’d go about doing such a thing. 

Yes, they work well together, but Cassian Andor is a professional, and she, of course, does not form attachments. 

Whatever reason compelled Cassian to list Jyn as his next-of-kin, it wasn’t any kind of romantic aspiration.

For Cassian Andor to have done such a thing, surely he must have had some objective, strategic reason to do so. He always plans ahead. He’s a shrewd judge of character, and while doesn’t trust many, he does trust her. He’d never been caught; he took far too much care to avoid capture, especially on a mission such as this. He is unafraid to die for the rebellion, this is true, but—

“No.”

“No?” Draven frowns. “Are you aware of other living relatives?”

Of course, he’s still several steps behind her because she’s said nothing, done nothing but continue to glare at him. “No, he’s not dead.”

It  _ felt  _ true. She could feel her kyber crystal practically hum against her chest with the truth of it.

“As I’ve already stated,” Draven went on, ironing out his perplexed expression back into his usual neutral mask, “there was no sign of his body at the wreckage site. We’ve got nothing from Imperial chatter. I almost lost the rest of his support team pursuing this information alone. He’s MIA, and that’s as good as gone.”

Jyn grinds her teeth and tries to glare harder at Draven. He doesn’t flinch. “The Imperial chatter could be intentionally misleading.”

“That may be true,” Draven concedes. “But it’s too dangerous—”

“You did not find a body. You did not confirm he’s dead. Instead, you abandoned him.”

“Captain Andor is perfectly aware of —”

“I’m going to find him.”

Her hands are shaking. When had that started? Fortunately, they’re already under the table. She clenches them into fists.

“We’re going to complete his mission,” she continues, rising. “And I’m going to bring him back.”

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves the room. 

She maintains her composure through the hallway of Ahsoka’s corvette, down the elevator to the lower deck, all the way to the galley. She thanks the Force it happens to be downtime and the corridors are empty. Only after the door swishes shut behind her does she finally let out a deep breath. 

And that breaks her. She collapses against the counter, leaning on her shaking hands, aware of nothing but only her ragged breathing. 

Cassian, alone, surrounded by Imps, abandoned by his people. She knows, objectively, that Draven is right — that he is fully aware what he signed up for, that he in turn had left his own people behind in similar circumstances. 

But she also knows, objectively, that he never once left her behind, despite ample opportunity to do so. Despite, she is sure, Draven’s instructions to do so. 

Because Jyn Erso is a target on three counts.

She is the daughter of Imperial weapons scientist Galen Erso. 

She works directly with Ahsoka Tano, the center of Fulcrum intelligence. 

And she is a Jedi.

#

Ahsoka finds her sometime later, presumably after Draven has departed. She’s curled up at the galley table, staring at cooling tea that reminds her of Mama. 

“I don’t care what Draven says,” she states, looking up at Ahsoka. “I’m going.”

“He’s not the one you have to convince.” Ahsoka’s tone is gentle, but firm. Like Draven, she doesn’t flinch at Jyn’s glare, and instead takes a seat across from her.

“Captain Andor is a vital asset to the rebellion,” Jyn states, attempting to will the heat from her voice. “As is the intel he was pursuing. Andor’s support team can’t finish the mission — but we can.”

“There will be other ways to access the information we need,” Ahsoka says patiently. “And other agents to pursue it.”

Jyn bites the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling. “I know you don’t believe that soldiers are expendable. Not like Draven.”

Ahsoka sighs and closes her eyes. “Do you think General Draven usually goes out of his way to deliver personal messages of this nature?”

Having braced herself for argument over Cassian, the question totally throws Jyn. “Of course not.”

“Then why do you think he came here?”

Jyn shrugs and looks away, towards the door. 

“It was Draven who recruited Captain Andor, over a decade ago. And it was Draven who trained him.” Again Jyn feels Ahsoka’s scrutiny without having to look at her. “So, I ask you again. Why do you think he came all the way here, to the middle of nowhere, to deliver this news to you face to face?”

Jyn clenches her hands into fists. To think the only people who might mourn Cassian’s possible passing are her and  _ Davits Draven  _ certainly makes for the oddest company she’s ever imagined. 

And then she realizes she’s forgotten Kay.

“What about his droid?” she asks, and it’s her turn to surprise Ahsoka. 

“He’s on a separate mission,” she says slowly. “I don’t recall where, but apparently Captain Andor considered him too much a liability for this particular mission.”

Jyn closes her eyes. If Cassian really is gone — but he isn’t — she’ll have to look after Kay. No one else would. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Ahsoka says.

“Clearly you already know the answer.”

“However much Draven loved Andor, he understands he has to let him go.”

Jyn relaxes her fists and pokes at the handle of her mug to spin it around slightly. “Don’t see how this is relevant to me.”

Ahsoka purses her lips. Her shoulders suddenly sag. “I once knew a Jedi who would stop at nothing to save his friends. His family. And when he couldn’t, he’d avenge them.” At first, her voice sounds wistful, but then she adds abruptly, “It led him down a dark path.”

Jyn looks up sharply at that, intent to hear Ahsoka’s next words. The heaviness in her shoulders, the weariness in her eyes — Jyn has only seen this behavior recently. Her master had always seemed unbreakable, from the moment Jyn first met her on Wrea. But lately, ever since she’d encountered that Sith Lord during the Siege of Lothal, cracks had begun to show. Even her connection to the Force had seemed strained. 

Ahsoka had mentioned very little of that particular mission, and even less about what had happened during their time at the temple on Lothal.

But Ahsoka doesn’t elaborate further about this particular Jedi.

“Love is not forbidden to the Jedi,” Ahsoka continues. “Being a Jedi is all about love. Love for all things, nature, the universe, people. But we have to be careful not to let that love blind us to what’s best for the galaxy as a whole. I’ve seen love twist into something dangerous, possessive. Something that will ask you to go against the natural order of things. Death is natural. And we must accept the will of the Force.”

Jyn scoffs. “I am not in love with Cassian Andor. And I am not trying to subvert the will of the Force.”

Her hand rises to hold her kyber crystal. With a soft click, it detaches from her necklace and she holds it out to Ahsoka. “On the contrary, the Force seems to be guiding me towards him. Feel it. Cassian Andor is alive.” As before, the crystal seems to hum at the truth of these words. “And the only reason he’d list  _ me  _ as his next-of-kin is because he must have felt I could help him complete his mission.”

“That’s… a rather large leap,” Ahsoka finally says.

“Assuming we’re lovers is even larger of a leap,” Jyn snaps back, closing her fist around her crystal and clicking it back into place at her neck. “He knows what I am. He’s practical, not sentimental. You know him as well as I do.”

Ahsoka tilts her head, eying Jyn up and down. “And I know you even better. Nothing I say will change your mind.”

Jyn shakes her head.

“I’m afraid I can’t join you,” Ahsoka says. “I have another matter to attend to. But Jyn…” She trails off, and eventually just shakes her head. “Just be careful.”

#

Ahsoka’s words still echo in Jyn’s head a couple days later, as she cruises over snow-dusted pines. The chill that had raced down her spine at hearing those words had been enough to still the reassuring hum of her kyber crystal. Both, she knew, were messages from the Force. 

Yes, pursue Cassian, the Force had told her. But also be wary of the cost. 

She settles her A-wing in a narrow clearing. Ideally, she’d soar over the tree-covered hills and rocky ledges closer to the Imperial facility, searching and scanning for any signs Cassian might have left her.

But obviously that would be asking for trouble.

And besides, Cassian is smarter than that.

She’d have to follow in his footsteps — or try to recreate them. 

Unfortunately, his starting point, the wreckage of his ship, still swarms with stormtroopers. So she lands even further away than he had. It’ll take an extra day of walking. 

With a sigh, she hoists her backpack out of the storage compartment and carefully drops down to the ground. The distance would make their getaway that much more difficult, but then, there’s no room in the A-wing for the both of them, anyways. This will be a one-way trip; they’ll have to commandeer a ship from the base to escape. 

Before leaving, she sends the coordinates to Draven’s team, in case they can spare anyone to recover this ship, in the unlikely chance that the Imps don’t find her ship first. 

At any rate, Cassian and Jyn are used to ridiculous odds, especially when Kay wasn’t around to announce them.

“The worst part about the distance,” she thinks to herself, as her feet crunch through several inches of snow, “isn’t any of that.”

No, the worst part about the distance, and the silence of the woods around her, is that it provided far too much time to think.

#

Evading the stormtroopers around the wreckage of Cassian’s ship is easy. She approaches the scene from the nearest cliff and is able to analyze their patrols before swooping in. More importantly, she can survey the land and analyze possible paths Cassian might have taken. 

That’s assuming, she reminds herself, that he’d even made it this far before the Imps had blown up his means of escape.

Ahsoka had once introduced her to another Jedi, a man named Cal Kestis, who could sense echoes in the Force. Jyn didn’t have that power, but she found herself wondering what she might sense if Cassian had been here, too. Had he looked down upon the valley below from this very cliff? Had he assessed the paths available to him from here?

These thoughts don’t help, so she brushes them away like the snow collecting on her shoulders, and proceeds to the valley below.

Determining Cassian’s trail, from the wreckage below, also turns out to be easy. Her earlier assessments help; combining her observations from above with the perspective at the actual scene narrows down her options. 

Mainly, what it comes down to, is what would  _ she  _ have done in this situation?

And if there’s some reason that it’s so easy for her to get inside Cassian’s head, it’s not for any reason except that he is logical and they both have the same kind of survival training. 

She can’t explain why the stormtroopers don’t have that training. Or why Cassian’s support team didn’t think of it. 

At any rate, she slips away from the wreckage without raising any suspicion and without any doubts that Cassian waits for her somewhere ahead.

It’s not  _ all  _ easy, of course. There’d been a moment, when Jyn had stumbled upon decaying remains set aside, wrapped in a familiar uniform, that she’d thought— but no. It’d been some kind of animal carcass, some human-sized creature that happened to be near the ship when it blew.

She almost does get caught then, but a chill up her spine (a nudge from the Force) reminds her she is not alone in these woods.

She keeps moving.

#

Cassian would feel comfortable on a snowy planet. After first meeting him, years ago, she’d read in his files that he was from Fest, and then she’d read on the holo all about Fest. From what she understood, he’d grown up used to somewhat icier terrain, fewer trees but just as many cliffs. 

If he could stay out of sight while doing so, he’d climb. 

The cliffs, after all, would not remember footprints.

Neither would rivers, and it just so happens that an icy, turquoise vein meanders through the cliffs and trees. Jyn’s dressed in appropriately water-proofed, thermal layers to brave the freezing water for maybe an hour, max, but that might be enough, combined with the cliffs that rise from its banks.

At night, she searches for grooves in the cliffs to protect her from fierce winds and rolls out her sleeping bag. As she drifts off to sleep, shivering, her weary mind can’t help to observe that a body next to hers would be warmer.

#

Jyn can tell how close she is to the Imperial facility by the number of troopers and patrols she crosses. It becomes increasingly difficult to avoid them. 

The first time, she pretends to be a lost geologist (her kyber crystal burns against her chest as she thinks of Mama), pulls out a map and intentionally holds it upside down so they can correct her and send her on her way. 

The second time, someone notices the tonfa batons at her hips, and the cover only works with a little push from the Force.

The third time, she has no choice. She unclips the crystal around her neck, slots it into its chamber on the tonfa baton at her right hip. In the same movement, she clicks a second crystal from around her wrist into the baton at her left. Her lightsabers hum to life with a flash of purple and white. 

She’s too fast for them. Red bolts streak around her and she catches each one with her sabers to send them screaming back towards their originators. Sabine Wren once told her Mandalorians know well the futility of shooting blastbolts at Jedi — that deflecting shots feels more like practice to Jedi than anything life-threatening. They have other weapons at their disposal.

Of course, the Empire does, too. If Jyn isn’t careful, they’ll learn of her presence too quickly and send purge troopers — or even worse, Inquisitors — after her. So she takes care to only hit troopers with their own bolts, to make it look like they’d been slain by enemy fire and not be the slash of a lightsaber blade.

She whirls around to take down the last trooper, but as she does so, a flash of light glints in her eye from the cliffs above. A bolt singes the sleeve of her left shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she glares at her enemy’s visor, the black strip of lens that renders his face unseeable. He raises his rifle towards her.

“Don’t come any closer!” he says. But he’s not  _ shooting _ . She needs him to shoot. 

Her boots crunch in the snow as she takes a step closer.

He flinches, shoots, and dies. 

They never learn.

#

“You put on quite a show,” Cassian says, his back to her, as he gazes down at the valley below. His scope — what might have caught the glint of the sun — still points roughly towards where she’d attempted to bury the bodies in the snow.

She settles into the rocky alcove where he’s made camp. It’s not quite deep enough to be a cave, but it is deep enough to block him from both the wind and the sun. She shivers as she steps out of reach of the sun’s warming rays. Despite the colder temperature during the day, undoubtedly the shelter would provide protection from the nightly winds.

“No one saw,” she says, sitting next to him.

He offers his scope to her, and without a word, she takes it and looks in. 

He’s pointed it at the remains of a fallen probe droid. (Also good target practice, as far as she was concerned.) But when she leans away from the scope, Cassian frowns at her. 

“No one saw this time,” he corrects.

Because of him. Because he’d had her back, even when she didn’t know she’d found him yet, even when she was searching to rescue him.

“Be careful,” Ahsoka had said. Whether the warning applied to unseen enemies or whatever this feeling was — the burning in her chest which would not be explained by her kyber crystal, which she had yet to remove from her ‘saber — Jyn could only guess. 

She removes both crystals now. Cassian watches her. If her cheeks flush, it’s only because of the cold. 

“You have a second lightsaber,” he says. 

“From an Inquisitor,” she answers. His eyes widen and his jaw twitches almost imperceptibly. “I purified it. That’s why the blade is white.”

“An Inquisitor,” he repeats, breathless.

“Hey,” she says, elbowing him. “He was no match for me.”

This is a lie, and Cassian knows instantly. She’d had a few close calls during that fight. 

She sighs. “The second lightsaber covers any holes in my guard. I’ve always been used to dual-wielding.”

She had always used the second tonfa in her off-hand, but to be honest, the added weight of the saber had required some adjusting. She was still technically getting used to it.

Cassian clears his throat. “We can probably make camp here tonight, but they’ll find it once they analyze the trajectory of the bolt that took out that probe droid.”

She looks around at this little corner of cliffs. “That’s too bad, it seems like you’ve made home here.”

His breath hitches again, and now he’s looking at her in a heavy kind of way. She hears Draven’s voice in her head saying “next-of-kin.”

No, no, Cassian Andor is professional. He stands and heads deeper into his alcove, towards a portable heating plate he’s set up. The carcass of some small woodland creature sits next to it, and briefly, she’s reminded of the remains she’d nearly tripped over by the wreckage of his ship.

She must have made some noise at the thought, because he whirls back towards her. “Jyn?”

“I’m fine.” She meets his eyes, so he can see the truth of it. She wasn’t fine before, but she’s fine now. That’s what she tells herself. But as she looks once more upon his face — the grimace that hasn’t left his jaw, the slight squint at the corners of his eyes, she realizes: “But you’re not.”

She looks him over again, notices how he attempts to hide whatever is paining him by shifting his weight. His left foot. 

She curses at him in Festian. “Idiot. Let me see your foot.”

Something — her tone, her bluntness, the unexpected use of his native tongue — stuns him into compliance. 

This time her breath hitches as she examines his foot, his toes on the verge of frostbite.  _ The water _ , she thinks.  _ He needs new boots _ . 

Carefully, she runs her fingers over his toes and clears her mind.  _ I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me _ . She can feel it flowing through her, between them, connecting them.

Cassian gasps and her eyes snap open. “How—” 

She expects fear in Cassian’s eyes — certainly other rebels had looked at her like that for less — but she finds nothing but awe. 

“I’m still learning.” Exhaustion swoops over her, as if to emphasize her point. She has been traveling for the better part of two days. “And it— takes…” 

“Sure, sure.” He catches her shoulders and leans her against the side of the cave. “I’ll get started on dinner.”

She watches him work in silence. Cassian Andor could make a feast with little more than berries. In another life, she thinks sleepily, he could be on one of those cooking shows. The Great Coruscanti Cook Off. He deserves that kind of life. Maybe she should suggest some kind of rebellion cooking competition to Ahsoka as a morale boost..

Sometime later, Cassian rouses her with the smell of stew. Her stomach growls loud enough to alert the Imps to their hiding place. The corner of Cassian’s mouth ticks up. 

Over dinner, Cassian briefs her on the gaps in his mission that Draven could not fill. He’d succeeded in infiltrating the Imperial facility using one of his aliases, but had gotten caught on his way out. In his escape, an important data chip had been compromised. 

“Since they discovered me, they’ve increased their already-heavy patrol,” he says, tidying up the campsite. “It’s impossible to send out a signal for help without being detected. Impossible to move. But I have to go back. That intel is too valuable to leave behind.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“A directory.” He hesitates. “Names of engineers working on a top secret weapons project. It is the kind of breakthrough we’ve been searching for for years.”

She goes quiet, leans away to look up at the stars, just visible if she angles her gaze towards a narrow v-shape at the front of the alcove. “Names,” she repeats.

“More than names. Profiles. Possibly even locations.”

She closes her eyes.

She sees Papa’s face.  _ Whatever I do, I do it to protect you. Say you understand. _

She sees Mama and Saw.  _ Ahsoka will protect you. Ahsoka will teach you to protect yourself. _

She hears Ahsoka’s words, unable to shake off talks of ‘attachment.’

“Jyn,” Cassian says, closer to her than she’d realized. She’d allowed him to sneak up on her. 

“I knew you were alive,” she whispers. 

Something flickers in Cassian’s eyes as she says this. He leans away from her and looks down at the ground. She wonders how fast it takes him to piece everything together: why she’s here in the first place, how she knew to come, what must have happened to bring her here. What she must have been told.

“You’re probably wondering why I had you listed—”

She shakes her head. “”Course not. I already know.”

His head snaps back up to look at her in bewilderment. “You — you do?”

“I’m the only one smart enough to track you down.”

Again, something flickers in his eyes, but this time it dulls. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light; post sunset, it’s difficult to see, and they can’t start a fire. “Right. Of course.”

For a second, she thinks he might sound relieved. 

She’s not about to pursue that subject, though. For one thing, Cassian’s thoughts are his own and she’s not one to pry. For another, she’s likely just imagining things. 

And most importantly, there’s a far more awkward topic to broach. 

#

Cassian puts up no fight to her suggestion they zip their sleeping bags together to share. She’s almost surprised he has one; it hadn’t been clear, based on the wreckage, what he might have taken with him when he’d originally set out on his mission. 

No, Cassian puts up no fight to her suggestion, but then he offers no other conversation afterwards, either. Not that they’ve ever been much for conversation, but something about the silence feels off. She can feel in the Force, some kind of tension. 

And even a non-Force sensitive could tell, the way he rolls over with his back to her. 

_ Well, what do you expect him to do? Cuddle?  _ Her inner monologue chides her. She rolls her eyes at herself. It takes a long time to fall asleep.

#

Jyn wakes to a pleasant thrum. At first she thinks it’s the constant reassuring hum of her crystal at her neck, before she realizes it’s actually coming from behind.

Cassian’s heart, a faint beat against her back, probably only detectable with her heightened Force senses. 

In the night, he’d rolled over, wrapped his arms around her, his knees tucked in to fit perfectly behind hers. 

In her nineteen years of life, Jyn Erso had crossed many lightyears, slept in many spaces, some more comfortable than the next. Saw’s hideout on Wrea had probably been the safest, even including Ahsoka’s own secured haunts. But Ahsoka moved around too much to ever cultivate the feeling of home.

This — in the midst of an icy mountain range surrounded by Imperials with admittedly low odds of escaping alive — somehow felt more safe, more like home, than any of the thousands of other places she’d rested her head.

At the realization, she shifts forward, out of his arms, praying she didn’t accidentally wake him with her sudden jerky movements. He grunts but otherwise seems to remain asleep. Very carefully, she slips out of the bag. 

She’s relieved Cassian sleeps through her frantic pacing. 

By the time he wakes — his hair mussed in such a way that Jyn forces her gaze towards anything else — she’s made breakfast. Admittedly, it doesn’t require much prep work with the rations she’s brought, but Cassian devours it as if her cooking skills were half as good as his. Must be hungry, she thinks. It’s good she brought extra rations. 

#

The flurries start about half an hour into their hike and continue throughout the morning. Snowflakes collect in the fur of Cassian’s blue parka, in his hair, in his  _ eyelashes _ . She didn’t think eyelashes could be long enough to catch snowflakes.

Eventually, as they near the facility, Cassian suddenly halts.

“Jyn?” he says, his breath fogging around him. His cheeks are flushed from their rapid pace.

“What?” she growls. Her cheeks are flushed, too.

“This way.” He cocks his head towards a slope to the right. Of course — they’d agreed on this route earlier this morning. 

She had to get her head on straight.

Must not have slept well from the cold.

“You there!” 

They both freeze. 

“Turn around, arms up!”

They comply, both of them glancing around their surroundings, making note of every tree and rock and path. 

And of course: counting their adversaries.

It appears there are only two within sight. But she knows, from the maps Cassian had drawn in the snow earlier, that they are incredibly close to the facility. There could be more ‘troopers through the trees, out of sight but easily within hearing range. There could be probe droids scouting in the skies. All it could take, to have waves of reinforcements sent their way, were a few errant blastbolts or the flash of a lightsaber.

Jyn makes a quick decision.

“Oh my gosh,” she says, leaning into her Coruscanti accent. “Thank the stars! Can you—”

“Hey!” the trooper that spoke raises his blaster as Jyn takes a step forward.

Jyn whimpers. “I’m— I’m sorry, sir. I just— we just—”

“Do you know where you are?” the second trooper asks, sounding slightly peeved.

“No, sir! That’s what I’m trying to say,” Jyn rambles. “Noal and I—” Cassian arches an eyebrow. “We just, we were trying to have a romantic getaway, and we just got a little lost.”

“We’re not lost, honey,” Cassian insists, mimicking her accent. “I told you I know where we are.”

“Clearly…” Jyn waves towards the troopers. “We’re very, very lost. Honestly we’ve been walking in circles. Look! Look at that tree! It has a hole in it. We’ve passed it at least three times.”

“Ma’am,” the first ‘trooper says. “Please slow down.”

The second trooper pulls him aside, and they start conferring in hushed tones. Cassian glances at Jyn worriedly, slowly inching his hand towards the blaster obscured by his parka. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the first trooper finally says, turning back to her. “It’s just that we’re looking for several fugitives —”

She glances at the second ‘trooper behind him, his blaster still raised towards them.

“I assure you,” Jyn says, raising her hands. She flicks one just slightly. “We’re not the fugitives you’re looking for.”

The troopers both pause for a second. “You’re not the fugitives we’re looking for,” the first one repeats. The second one lowers his blaster. 

Jyn slips the map out of her pocket. “We’re just trying to get back to the nature reserve.”

“You’re just trying to get back to the nature reserve,” he repeats again.

“Move along.”

“Move along.” 

The troopers wave her in a direction, presumably towards the nature reserve. 

“Thank you.”

Jyn takes Cassian’s hand. “I told you, dear. The troopers are friendly. We could have asked for directions hours ago.”

Cassian shakes his head and his grip on her hand tightens. “How long does that last?”

“Not long enough.”

They waste no time fleeing.


	2. Chapter 2

Cassian leads her up a steep incline, the dirt and trees eventually giving way to boulders. It takes them another hour to scramble over surfaces slick from the snow, until their path dead ends into a steep cliff face. Between the two of them, they barely have enough climbing gear, and certainly not the appropriate gear to do this safely.

But Jyn has the Force to guide her. She scales the cliff with little trouble, knowing Cassian watches attentively below. When she reaches the top, she tells him where to go, although his own instincts serve him well enough. He’s only several feet away from her reach, and she’s convinced this ordeal is practically over, when his boot slides on the slippery rock face. 

In a blink, he’s falling. 

“Cassian!” she shouts, and before she can think, her hand reaches out and she catches him with the Force. 

She does not process the whirr and clicks behind her, does not drop Cassian even when a blastbolt burns her shoulder, and doesn’t even fully register Cassian’s own counter shot until she’s brought him safely to the narrow rock face. Only when the probe droid explodes in a flash of orange below does she finally realize all that just happened.

“Kriff,” she mutters. Part of her wants to pull Cassian tight to her, to take him into her arms and examine him until she’s absolutely satisfied there’s not a scratch on him. But all she does is stare at the probe droid below. She tries not to imagine Cassian’s own broken body in its place.

“Jyn,” he says, close enough to her ear to send shivers down her spine. He tugs on her coat sleeve. “Come on. We have to keep going.”

“Right. Right.”

The narrow ledge curves around a larger boulder, until they’re facing what at first appears to be another rock scramble. Only then she notices, looking a little more closely, the faintest wisps of steam in the air. What appear to be large holes in the scramble are actually chimneys, camouflaged by the mountain’s natural formations.

But it’s the view beyond those that catch her attention.

A vast sea opens up before them, beautiful, icy fjords rising up from the waves. 

“There,” Cassian says, pointing towards the next fjord over. It’s slightly too close to see well. “The base of that fjord, there’s a wide cavern right at sea level. It looks natural but inside, that’s their hangar.”

Jyn nods, remembering his diagram. That hangar will be their only way out, with Cassian’s ship gone, and security likely to be too heavy to flee on foot. 

But first, they’ll have to enter the base. Her gaze flicks back to the chimneys immediately before them.

“How deep did you say these are?”

“Deeper than your rope will go,” he says. “But there should be a maintenance hatch about ten or fifteen meters down, if we pick the right vent.”

“If we pick the right vent?” she asks, turning back to him, incredulous.

He gives a boyish shrug and a half grin. “I’m pretty sure I remember which one.”

“You’re pretty sure you remember?” She repeats, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t the way you came in last time?”

“No,” he says. “Can’t go in the same way, they have that locked down now. But this was one of the possible entrances we considered during our initial briefing.”

Jyn sighs. She wishes there was some way the Force could help her divine which vent they want, but all she can do instead is use it to guide their footing, to spot them as they balance precariously on the narrow rocks between each hole. The wind above each vent tousles their hair into knots, eager to force them down into the depths of the Imperial base below.

Finally, Cassian pauses at one of the vents. “I think it’s this one,” he says. Jyn grips his arm as he pulls out a small set of binoculars to peer into the dark maw below. He nods. “I see the hatch.”

They nail the rope into the rock cliff with their last remaining pitons. Cassian goes first, Jyn ready to catch him again if need be, but this part — so much trickier than their last climb — somehow goes off without a hitch. Cassian rappels down into the vent, opens the hatch, and clambors in. Jyn follows, more at ease with heights even than him. 

Initially, the maintenance halls in this part of the base are easy to sneak through — no one really comes up here, and anyone who does is easily avoided or dispatched without issue. 

They  _ would  _ face worse difficulties within, except for a particular trick Jyn has been saving. She can’t sense Force echoes, no, and her healing abilities are extremely limited and exhaust her. But what she can do is hide. With a deep, calming breath, she exhales, and suddenly, they seem to disappear. 

It’s not exactly that they become invisible; it’s more an extension of the more common Jedi mind trick. With a wave of her hand, added with the practiced air of “we belong here,” she can practically disguise herself, without having to actually obtain a uniform or credentials — although she generally prefers to do both those things as a safety net. And they do, once they find uniforms that fit both of them.

It is, oddly, ridiculously easy. But then, Cassian’s trouble on this mission hadn’t been navigating the base, it’d been escaping it, namely because there were so few exits. 

But that is a problem for later.

In the meantime, they’ve got to navigate to one of the scientist’s labs, one of the few rooms with access to the directory. 

Their journey leads them deep into the bowels of the base until, much like with the maintenance area by the vents, the staff thins out. Instead of janitorial and droids, they walk amongst scientists, and even these mainly keep to their labs. 

It’s not until the third lab that Jyn notices she’s peaked into every door she could, if it was open or had any kind of window. She’s read the names on each door. She can’t tell if she’s relieved she hasn’t spotted her father or disappointed. 

What would she even do if she saw his name? If she saw  _ him _ ?

_ Whatever I do, I do it to protect you. Say you understand. _

What weapons had he concocted over the last decade or so? What pain had he wrought the galaxy? Under the claim that he was protecting her?

“This one’s empty,” Cassian mutters. Jyn sidles up to slice the door lock while Cassian keeps an eye on the hallway. They’re inside within seconds. It’s a mostly bare office; the name on the door had not read Galen Erso, but she wonders if her father works in a similar office. 

She shakes her head and focuses on the mission.

Cassian settles in the desk chair, taking point since he’s already done this once before. Jyn hovers by the door, in case the tech who works here returns. It’s boring work — just standing, waiting, watching.

At some point, the floor rumbles beneath them, the lights flicker, dust floats from the ceiling. Jyn peeks out the door — again, a part of her wondering, dreading, hoping to see her father. But the hall remains empty, but for two techs walking away from her, seemingly utterly unphased. She returns to the room.

“What are they working on here?” she asks Cassian, who’s typing something into the console.

“Some kind of superlaser,” he says. His eyes flick towards her just briefly before returning to the console. “Something to do with kyber crystals. They’ve apparently been shipping them in.”

Jyn sidles up behind Cassian to glance over his shoulder. “Their manifest?”

“Yeah.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, thinking of the remnants of Ilum that Cal Kestis had once described to her. Unbidden, a memory surfaces: Mama and Papa talking of harnessing the power of kyber crystals, not for weapons but to make energy. Is this her father’s work, corrupted to reap the power of the living crystals for death and destruction?

For a moment, her blood runs as hot as Ilum is cold — but then she takes another deep breath, and another. 

“Jyn?” 

She returns to her post at the door, glancing out again. “I have a bad feeling about this. I think we better get going.”

“Sure.” 

It takes another minute, and then he pulls out a datastick and secures it in a pouch around his neck. 

“Let’s go.”

Back through the winding maze, Jyn shields them from view when she can. It’s been hours now, well into the afternoon, and she can feel exhaustion starting to set in from the hike, the climb, and the constant drawing on the Force. 

Finally, they round what she thinks is the last corner and enter what appears to be a large warehouse. Before them sprawls a maze of crates: some as large as a speeder, others smaller but stacked high. 

“The other side of this room,” Cassian says, nodding in that direction. “There’s a hallway that’ll lead to the hangar.” 

Dressed as they are, they should be able to enter a ship without too much suspicion, and hopefully be able to lie well enough to control to at least get outside into the air.

It’s so  _ close _ , and as Jyn realizes that, a dark feeling rolls in her gut. 

She steps forward slowly and presses her hand against one of the crates. She can hear them: songs of kyber crystals, their mournful tunes calling to her, echoing like the resonating wails of purrgil stranded in deep space. 

“What is it?” Cassian asks. She can hear both concern and urgency in his voice. 

But before she can answer him, the modulated voice of a stormtrooper calls out, “Hey! You there!”

Had the crystals distracted her enough to let her guard down? Was she simply too tired to keep hiding them? 

They both slowly turn, in an uncanny imitation of their encounter from this morning. Only they don’t see two stormtroopers this time.

No, this time is vastly different. 

On the one hand, only one foe faces them.

But this figure wears thick black armor with red details. He glares at them through a thin red visor that gleams in the overhead lights. And, worst of all, the staff in his hand sizzles on each end with purple energy.

A purge trooper.

Raising her hand, Jyn starts, “We’re not—”

“Your mind tricks won’t work on me, Jedi scum,” the trooper says, raising his staff. 

Of course — only the strong minded would be chosen for such a position: to help Inquisitors hunt down Jedi.

Jyn glances at Cassian and he nods. Though it only takes less than a second, the image is seared in her mind: the trust in his eyes. Then he takes off into the maze of crates, and Jyn unclips the crystal around her neck.

Her own lightsabers hum into existence. Despite everything, as her blades soar up to block the purge trooper’s attack, Jyn can’t help but notice the purple of her blade eerily matches the hue of the purge troopers’ electrostaff. 

Around her, the kyber crystals all sing. For now, they are safe and stabilized within their containers. But one poorly aimed attack, one careless retreat, and they could damage any of these crates, breaking the mechanism stabilizing the crystals. And  _ then _ — then the crystals could ignite and blow everything to bits.

Ideally, she’d retreat elsewhere, bring the fight to some other part of the station. But there is no other way.

Gritting her teeth, she channels the Force and shoves her opponent away, then retreats into the maze of crates to follow Cassian’s trail. Her mind races as she tries to devise a plan.

The trooper keeps up, of course. Sweat drips from her brow as she parries and lunges. His armor resists the heat of her blade, but if she can land blows in the right places, she can tire him, knock him out, and maybe even penetrate the vulnerabilities in his armor. She can sense it, his wearing down, with every blow she blocks and every blow she lands. But she’s wearing down, too, her muscles protesting with every movement, her lungs aching with every breath.

She’s lost her bearings and worrying she might have lost Cassian when she sees movement ahead. Drawing again on the Force, she shoves the purge trooper away, but she’s mistargeted her Force push, and he collides into a stack of smaller crates. She pauses, watching them clatter around him, but when nothing explodes, she moves on.

Panting, she focuses her attention towards the gap in the stacks, where she last saw Cassian. And then he appears, backing into view— except he’s not moving of his own accord—

He’s being held. His hands claw at black gloves tightening around his neck. His feet kick uselessly at the air, his eyes wide in surprise as he faces an enemy Jyn can’t yet see. 

Her blood runs cold and churns in her ears. For a moment, she fears Ahsoka’s Sith Lord has found her, the man — the monster — in charge of the Inquisitorius. She remembers Kanan’s description: the cold, the fear, the anger, the hate...

Her vision, her universe, narrows as their new foe steps forward: dressed in all black, a long cape trailing from their shoulders.

It is not the Sith Lord she’s heard about, but his Inquisitors are formidable enough on their own.

“Well, well, well,” a female voice says. “Look what we have here. Good work.”

Jyn frowns, and barely shifts in time to dodge a blow from the purge trooper, whom she’d practically forgotten. The movement sends her crashing into a stack of crates, and the trooper wastes no time advancing on her, trapping her against the small crater she’s stuck herself in. The songs of the crystals warp into shrieks that pound against her sweating temples. 

“Let him go,” Jyn snarls, as the glow of the purge trooper’s staff practically blinds her from its proximity. She pays it no mind, still focused on Cassian struggling in the Inquisitor’s grip. 

“As you command,” the purge trooper says, and aided by the Force, she tosses him violently into a stack of crates. His body crumples even as he collides with the stack, and then the whole pile falls on top of him.

“No!” Jyn screeches. With a power she’s never tapped before, as if her exhaustion had never bothered her, she shoves the electrostaff away from her face, hurls the purge trooper into a stack of crates, and slices into him. His body crumples much like Cassian’s, like little more than flimsi folding in on itself.

“Interesting,” the Inquisitor says. She continues towards Jyn, musing, “Maybe not a Jedi after all.”

“I am a Jedi,” Jyn says, raising her tonfa sabers into her standard guard. “And I will destroy you.”

“Not a very Jedi-like statement,” the Inquisitor says, still sounding more intrigued than threatened. “We can work with that.” 

And then she launches her attack. 

“I know that crystal,” the Inquisitor says, as they beat and parry, their feet gliding and twirling them around what has become their arena. “It belonged to a colleague of mine you killed.”

Jyn grits her teeth and jabs the white blade towards the Inquisitor’s chest, but it’s quickly blocked. “It belonged to a Jedi before him. It was never rightfully his.”

The Inquisitor continues, ignoring Jyn’s comment. “And what will you do now that I’ve killed your colleague?”

Roaring, Jyn pushes into the ground and leaps, soaring and spinning into the air, looking for an opening in the Inquisitor’s defenses from above, not once questioning her sudden surge of energy, focusing only on her anger. Her blade at last connects with her enemy’s shoulder and trades a glowing gash down her arm. The Inquisitor screams in surprise, and quickly rolls away, retreating. 

“Well, I can’t say I’ve seen that kind of passion in a Jedi before,” the Inquisitor says, once she’s recovered. “Maybe he wasn’t just a colleague.” 

The Inquisitor darts forward, prodding at Jyn’s guard, searching for a hole. “Maybe he wasn’t just a friend.”

Jyn has never faced an Inquisitor on her own before. The one she’d defeated, the one who’s kyber crystal she’d healed and now uses in her own blade, had gone down only with Ahsoka’s help. Just moments ago, she could feel the exhaustion in her arms, in her legs, threatening to turn them to lead. Her reactions were coming just seconds too slow, narrowly protecting her as the Inquisitor advances and advances.

But now, a well of untapped energy waits for her, crackling and tempting, and her thoughts hurtle forwards on a singular track.

She is alone. 

Again.

_ Whatever I do, I do it to protect you. _

She pictures that carcass at the wreckage.

_ Ahsoka will take care of you. _

She sees Cassian falling and falling and falling, a plume of orange exploding in the rocks below.

_ Ahsoka will teach you to protect yourself. _

She sees him struggle and claw only to crumple in a broken heap. 

They were so  _ close _ !

“He’s not entirely gone,” the trooper says between the clashing of their blades. “Can you feel it? The life still pulsing in his veins?”

Tears leaking from her eyes, Jyn grunts and tries to shove the Inquisitor forward, but it’s not enough.

“He suffers still,” the Inquisitor says. “So much pain.”

Jyn slashes each arm madly. 

“You know what you need to do.”

All the words and images whirling inside her head like a storm suddenly coalesce into a fury so intense, it engulfs her. With an agonized scream, Jyn reaches deep down for the energy and power she’s never been able to tap into before. And finally her blows land harder. Golden red gashes carve into the Inquisitor’s armor. Her guard weakens. As Jyn lands a heavy blow close to her hilt, the Inquisitor’s lightsaber clashes to the ground.

Jyn has her. She crosses her purple and white blades and frames the Inquisitor’s neck.

“No!” the Inquisitor shouts, the last traces of calm fleeing from eyes to be replaced only be fear and desperation. “I can help you! I can show you how to heal him. Power, beyond your imagination—”

Jyn narrows her eyes, tightens the angle of her blades, now just millimeters away from the Inquisitor’s neck.

“No need.”

Distracted, they both look up to see a red bolt crash into the Inquisitor’s mask. She falls to the ground, narrowly missing Jyn’s blades, and lands at Jyn’s feet.

Cassian leans against the stack of crates that had once buried him, his knuckles pale where they grip his blaster. With a gasp, he falls back, boxes once more clattering around them. 

Jyn extinguishes her blades and speeds towards him, barely catching him in time.

“Cass…” she whispers, cradling him gingerly in her lap. The tears never stopped falling, and now they collect on his skin like the snowflakes in the morning. 

“”Mfine,” he mutters. “Keep going.”

“No,” she says. “You’re not fine, you’re not.”

He grimaces and tries to push himself up. “Will be. Keep going.”

He doesn’t speak above a raspy whisper. Already bruises are starting to purple his neck. 

“Where does it hurt the most?” she asks.

“Everywhere,” he breathes. 

“Kriff.” A large tear lands on his shoulder. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not,” he mutters. “Let’s… keep going.”

“But…”

“Only… few meters. Rest on ship.”

It pains him, every word pains him. And still he’s fighting for her. She can’t, she can’t lose him again. The exhaustion, the pain, it surges through her again, but this time, she lets it wash over her, and the tears come like rain. She buries her face in his shoulder. 

“Jyn…” he rasps.

“Shh,” she says, wiping at her face. She looks around, still not letting go of Cassian. “Okay. Okay. We can do this.”

She props him carefully against the stack of crates. Then she heads over to the bodies of the purge trooper and Inquisitor. The latter is unequivocally dead from Cassian’s shot, and the trooper is unconscious and doesn’t appear to be stirring any time soon. Then, as quickly as possible, she changes into the Inquisitor’s armor, clips all three lightsabers to her belt, and rigs a holster for her back for the electrostaff.

Satisfied, she returns to Cassian. “I’m going to carry you,” she tells Cassian, who seems to be barely keeping himself from blacking out against the pain. “It might hurt a little. I’m sorry.”

“Sokay,” he says.

Another feeling wells up inside her, this one nothing like the others but perhaps more terrifying. But it needs an outlet, and so she gently places her lips against his forehead. As she pulls away, he falls unconscious. With a sigh, she carefully hoists him over her shoulder, still drawing on the Force for strength.

She gathers many curious glances as she enters the hangar, Cassian’s body draped over her shoulder.

“I’ve caught your rebel spy,” she announces to the nearest official. “The traitor was the Jedi I’ve been hunting. No wonder he evaded your capture. He’s dispatched the purge trooper in the other room. Clean up the mess.”

She draws, once more, on the Force to aid the disguise. It nearly finishes her; her knees wobble under all the strain. But no one questions her. Immediately upon entering the hangar, she recognizes the favored ship of the Inquisitors and beelines towards it. 

All too easy — but none of it feels easy — she enters the ship, straps Cassian to the netted seating at the back of the cockpit, and closes the hatch. It takes her a moment to catch her breath, as she looks over the controls. 

The control tower buzzes her several times, and when she snaps at them to give her a second, it doesn’t seem to surprise them. 

She needs to figure out this Inquisitor's identity, needs to get her bearings. It takes a few more moments to slice the security and start the engines. It’d all go faster with Cassian’s help, of course; she’s a competent pilot but only just.

Finally, she’s given clearance to leave. The hangar doors at the far end open, and somewhat shakily, she steers the ship out of the hangar, out the doors, through a vast cavern glistening with ice-laced stalactites. The dark water of the cavern gives way to a turquoise sea as she zooms out of the cavern and into the fjord-carved bay. 

No one questions her probably subpar flying, but then she doubts many ever question an Inquisitor. She’s glad Cassian isn’t awake to witness her embarrassing herself, but then if he was awake, he could fly instead.

For a brief second, a vision of Cassian teaching her to fly flits through her brain, before she can shut that down.

She’ll have to insist on more lessons from Ahsoka, who’d always been a decent pilot. She wonders who taught her, if that was normally something Jedi were taught. 

Ahsoka…

The moment hyperspace streaks around her, she unbuckles and returns to Cassian’s side. His breathing is shallow, but steady. She squeezes his hand and then busies herself rummaging through the ship’s first aid. Unfortunately, there’s not much she can do for bruising and whatever internal damage the impact into the crates had likely caused. 

The best she can do is recuperate enough herself to maybe grant him some minor Force healing. 

So she sits by his side. 

“Kriff,” she says, knowing he can’t hear her. “I’m karking mad for you, aren’t i?”

Ahsoka had been right. When would Jyn learn, she usually was?

This would change everything. Until she could learn to control her emotions, she’d have to steer clear of any missions with him. She’d have to ask him to remove her from his next of kin list. 

But then, if he did that… if she hadn’t known to come here, to find him…

Another tear rolls down her cheek, and she grips his hand tightly and brings it to her lips. 

“Draven needs to take better care of you,” she thinks. And if what Ahsoka had speculated about Draven was true, then maybe, just maybe she’d be able to convince him of it. Give Cassian less riskier missions. 

But that wouldn’t be fair to him, would it? He wouldn’t want that. He’d want to go where he was most needed, where he could do his best work. He wouldn’t want to be coddled. 

No, all she could really do, in the end, was accept the will of the Force. She could love him, but she could not keep him safe. And she could not sacrifice herself to try. 

In a way, he’d saved her, hadn’t he? Prevented her from walking down a path too dark for him to follow. 

His eyes flutter open, and for several long moments, he stares at her in silence. 

“Where are we?”

“Hyperspace. Safe.”

He nods and closes his eyes, wincing in pain. She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back.

“Cassian,” she says. “I don’t think I can…”

“I know.”

Her brow furrows, unsure what he thinks she was going to say. She has to clarify; he has to understand that she could no longer be counted on. As a Jedi, with purge troopers and Inquisitors ever hunting her, she puts him at too much risk. And after what she’d almost done… what she had done… she no longer trusted herself around him.

_ Whatever I do, I do it to protect you. Say you understand. _

“I don’t think we can work together anymore,” she says, surprised how firm her own voice sounds when inside she feels as though she’s crumbling.

“I know,” he repeats, his eyes still closed. “I understand.”

“So you should remove me,” she says, “from your next-of-kin list. Put someone else you trust to come after you.”

“Jyn…” he shakes his head and winces. After a moment, he opens his eyes and gazes up at her. How can a look so soft blow her away? “That’s not why I…” He stops himself. “There is no one else.”

A light goes off in her heart, then, like the time the crystal she’d purified had ignited white instead of red. 

“I understand.”

He squeezes her hand. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

She nods. The best she can do, the best way for a Jedi like herself to love him, is to trust in the Force and to trust in him.

**Author's Note:**

> So [lightsaber tonfas](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Guard_shoto/Legends) are really a thing! mainly in Legends, but apparently they appear in a canon book about weapons. They work particularly well with the [Shien form of lightsaber combat](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Form_V), which — hey you guessed it, Ahsoka Tano was known for. Ahsoka and Jyn, destined to be Master and Padawan? It’s more likely than you think. Although not actually likely since Jyn is not canonically Force-sensitive, but, well, you know what I mean. Again special thanks to Allatariel for her deep SW knowledge for thinking of this. 
> 
> Cal Kestis is the main protagonist of _Jedi: Fallen Order_
> 
> The other mission Ahsoka is going on (why she can’t go with Jyn) is probably related to the events of “Twilight of the Apprentice,” but I haven’t 100% decided yet.
> 
> Also, FWIW, I actually had a lot more plotted out but given Life this was all I was able to actually write. But I do have scenes in my head about Jyn’s early life (her mother is alive, btw, although it didn’t come up organically in this). And I also have an idea of where this is going next — and if you’re familiar with “Twilight of the Apprentice” you can probably guess some of it.
> 
> ANYWAYS! Happy holidays @kausaus, I hope you liked this!


End file.
